Children's Books.

I was watching the television show House on my computer (I am just beginning the fourth season) and encountered an episode about a man and a dog. This man loved his dog, and the dog loved him. This happened to bring up a childhood memory about children's books.

I sometimes wonder about the topics people choose for children's books, for example, when Celine brought in Hair in Funny Places, a book about puberty, from the local library. Especially since children's books have short, simple sentences, one per page, with interesting cartoon illustrations to accompany the sentences. That was also a horrible experience, and I am glad that I never ran across that book. I digress.

I loved to read as a child, and would occasionally dig through the large quantity of random books we had around the house for new material. When I was eight or nine, I found I'll Always Love You in our children's books. It seemed to be about a boy and his dog. SPOILER ALERT. I read the book. It wasn't long or too in depth. It began about a boy and his dog, whom he loved very much. They did everything together. Then, the boy got older and the dog got older, slower, etc. The boy was worried about the dog. The dog could do less and less, and the picture showed the dedicated boy towing the dog in his wagon. One day, the dog goes to the vet, and dies. The boy is heartbroken. On the way home, another kid offers the boy a cute dalmation puppy, which he rejects, smiling, because he loves his dog. He thinks to his dog, "I'll always love you."

Upon finishing the book, I stared at the last page, shocked, and proceeded to burst into tears. My dog was maybe three years old at the time, and I already had an irrational fear of dying. And then I read this most depressing book about this poor boy's dog dying. I cried for weeks after reading that book. It simultaneously broke my heart and terrified me.

I suppose the author wanted to help children understand death, and that people move on after death, also that of pets. Or maybe the author wanted his or her--his, whose name is Hans Williams, thank you Google and Amazon--story to be known to the world. Either way, I discovered that book at a horrible time, and it has ever since affected me. It left me heartbroken and crying, and only worsened my fear of dying or of loved ones dying. I was terrified alot as a child, of a variety of things. Also, I needed certain things to sleep properly. I had a fishtank light, and the door had to be open, the dishwasher in the kitchen ten feet from my room had to be running (one course took an hour) and I had to have three comforters to protect me from the velociraptors.

Yes, velociraptors. The third time I watched Jurassic Park, I had begun my phobia stage, maybe about 9, and the next few years were terrifying. Every night, between two and four, I woke up, petrified, because I knew that today would be the day they could get me. They were the only scary dinosaurs, becuase they were so smart. They could open doors. Our doors had knobs, less convenient than the other handles, but those raptors would find a way. Maybe, just maybe, my three blankets would protect me. As such, I buried myself under them, covering all of me and most of my head, save the tinest bit of my face, enough for me to breathe and to stare at the clock until five. At five, the day began and the reign of the raptors ended, for that night at least. It was horrible. The less sleep I got, the more irrational my fears became, and the more irrational they became, the less I could sleep. I also couldn't fall asleep well. I used to fall asleep in my parent's bed, with Mom since Dad went to bed later, but they eventually realized that I would never overcome my fears, so around month three of the raptors I was sent to my own room every night. I would lie in bed so scared, unable to fall asleep. Eventually I began to pray I'd fall asleep and sleep all night, and did better, but I was well into middle school before my phobias stopped and my fear of raptors seemed a little less rational.

Next post, I may tell you about more phobias, but this post seems long enough at the moment, and I have covered a good amount of topics. Coming soon: Irrational fears that kept me terrified in my childhood/preteen years.

Christmas Eve!

It is Christmas Eve. It is also over 80 degrees outside. Fahrenheit. My roomate from Canada uses Celsius, which causes panic whenever I ask what the weather is and she gives me a temperature around 17 degrees. I have never in Florida, not even in Tallahasse, experienced those temperatures. Once, I went to North Carolina with choir in the winter, and it snowed. That was the only time in life as I rememebr it that it has been that cold. I lived in North Carolina until I was two, and it snowed then, too, but I can't remember that.

Anyways, 6 hours left until it's officially Christmas. I still haven't bought my boyfriend a present. I will. I hate Christmas shopping. I never know what to get anyone, but it's kind of required that I do, espeically when they'll get me something. I've always spent hours debating over what to get, hoping that I can think of something. I still don't know what I'll get him. And sometime after Christmas I have to buy all of my college friends gifts, but I won't see them until January.

I love Christmas. I spend all of November preparing my Christmas music, and the day after Thanksgiving I start listening. I hate how as soon as Halloween ends, now, stores prepare for Christmas. It's a little ridiculous, but I guess it's the most commercial holiday there is. Unfortunately, when it never gets cold, it never feels like Christmas. Even here in Florida, it's usually cold at some points of the day. Not last year, though. Or this year, apparently.

Updates on my life: Haven't gotten trapped anywhere interesting lately, haven't done anything interesting, haven't really got much to rant about. I've been watching House season 2, mostly, and hanging out with friends. I always look forward to breaks, but as soon as they come, I wish classes would start again. Or at least that dorms would open. I'm forced to return home because they decide to close the dorms. Thanks, college administration.

I think that's all I have to say. Thank you for reading. Have a Merry Christmas!

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Habits

It would seem that I like to get stuck in ridiculous places, like tunnels. Also bathrooms of Burger Kings. However, this time I was being completely normal and not asking for trouble, unlike aforementioned tunnel incedent.

Okay. So I'm in Burger King because Jeff decides that he wants a burger. And that this Burger King was the place to go. So I decide to use the bathroom. Upon entering this bathroom, I notice that the doors are not the usual cheap doors with the latchey slide things. They are actual doors, with handles. Handles that raptors can open, not knobs. And little push locks that automatically unclick when you turn the handle.

Anyways, I use the handicapped stall because the other door looked closed. I do my business, I wash my hands. I turn the knob and walk forward. And I am stopped by this aforementioned door. I pause. I step back. I look at this door. I attempt to walk through it again, only to be stopped. This door is not opening. I push a little harder and more frustratedly. I relock and spin the handle, just to be sure that the door is unlocking. I shake the handle furiously. The door remains shut and I remain trapped inside. I step back and examin this door. It's smaller than a normal door, but inside of a frame, so that there is maybe 6 inches of empty space above the door and a foot below the door. I contemplate going under the door. It would require me sliding completely on the floor, and even then it'd be tight in a few places. And I would end with Burger King floor residue on me. I decide that dying in the bathroom stall is preferable to dying by Burger King floor disease.

So, now I know that I cannot escape. I am alone in this bathroom stall. I can either yell really loudly, sit in the corner and decide how long I can live on the gum in my purse and the water in the sink, or call somebody. To save me. In the Burger King bathroom... I could call 411, ask for the Burger King in Deltona, hope they send me to the right one, and wait for some employee to save me. Or I can call Jeff. I figure he can get over social standards and enter the Ladies' Restroom to save me. But he doesn't answer. So the next logical call to make is Gauraw, who is two hours away in Tampa.

"Hello?"
"Gauraw! I'm trapped in the bathroom at Burger King!"
"Uh....what?"
"The door won't open! I'm stuck in the stall!"
At this point I begin laughing, and maybe almost crying becuase it was all so ridiculous. Gauraw, however, remained quite calm. I think he asked me soemthing helpful like, "Did you try opening the door?" and "Is the door unlocked?" I assured him I had tried everything, and even tried ramming the door down with my shoulder just to prove my point, since he could obviously see my efforts on the other end of the phone. He offered to try calling Jeff for me. And I was left alone.

So I stared at the door, spun the handle, and tried ramming through it again. And the door opened.

I went back into the restaraunt area and found Jeff, waiting in line for his foodstuffs. I told him how I was trapped. He laughed. I then called Gauraw back and told him I was free. Gauraw laughed, too, which he didn't do earlier so as not to upset me or something. Then Jeff and Gauraw talked and both laughed together at--not with--me for getting trapped.

And that is the story of why I love my friends.

Why do I have this?

It's late at night, and I'm just kind of killing time so I decided to write in this blog of mine. It made me wonder why exactly I have this blog. I was never big on posting my thoughts on the internet for the entire world to see. I rememer when livejournal was popular. I never got a livejournal. It seemed like a waste of everything to me. And I in no way ever wanted all of my thoughts, feelings, emotions, and the like posted online for the entire world to see, criticize, scrutinize, and the like. Jess has a blog to keep the world updated on her life. Leah posts her poetry. I'm not sure what Daniel's is for, and Philip talks about politics and computers. I'm not a poet, I could care less about computers and politics, and I don't have any significant events in my lfie that I need to update on this blog. Especially not any that aren't already on myspace or facebook.

However, I might as well type something since I already started this pointless post. School is ending, and these past two weeks have just been a whirlwhind of events and changes and decisions and driving. Life is kind of spiraling out of control. And anywhere that I could go to unwind is also part of the spiral. I'm torn between people and worlds and situations. There's been so many decisions, choices, factors that affect my life that I'm not sure I realize at this moment. Things just all happened so fast that I never stopped to think, and before I knew it everything was turned upside down. And, adding finals week on top of that, it's been hectic. I think on Friday everything will settle down. I'll be back at home, and life will just kind of pause.

Speaking of home, I never realized how much I thought of college as home until I came home on Monday. I stepped out of my car and looked at campus, and just realized how content I felt inside. I love this campus. It's home. I'm sure Leah could say that more poetically, and Daniel could write it more grammatically complex, and Jess would know how to make it interesting. But I expect that you, nonexistent reader, know the feeling I am talking about. And at this point I am honestly just rambling because I'm tired and I'm putting off sleeping, because tomorrow is kind of a busy day, with a lot of stuff to do and more driving. As much as I want tomorrow to come, I also just don't want today, and this feeling of being at college with all my finals done and the world at peace to end. I want to stay right here, content and calm, with nothing to do but sit on my bed with my computer in front of me, with nothing to do.

Well, I think that's all I have to say today. I'll probably post in a few days about how much I love Christmas, since I'm playing piano for a Christmas Pageant, and then I'll really be in the Christmas mood. I love Christmas.

Group Work

I hate group work.

For one thing, because then my grade depends on other people, and how am I supposed to know if they care about their grade as much as I do?

However, the worst thing about group assignments is when you're in a class where you really don't know anyone and don't have any friends, and the teacher just lets you choose groups. Everyone starts pairing off with their friends and you kind of sit there awkwardly hoping that someone will ask you to join their group or will realize that you don't have a group. After about 8 minutes I eventually summoned the courage to ask the girl in front of me if I could be in their group.

Another problem with group assignments is trying to get everything together outside of class. We make a deadline for everybody to submit their part of the paper in. I only have two of the four papers. The next morning one girl emails late and says she'll send it later, the other girl doens't even respond for a few more hours, only to say that she'll have it in soon.

I lost my temper and got tired of checking my email, so I acted without thinking, as I do frequently, and sent them what I had done and told them to finish it between themselves. One girl seemed to care less, the other seemed a little peeved. Well, I was peeved that I had to wait for dallas papers. Maybe I didn't handle it the best way, but maybe that was a stupid situation for anyone to ever be in.

Group work is stupid. Sersiously, teachers? All you're doing is making students feel horrible. When I am a teacher, I will never force students into group work. It's not fair to the kids that care more about their grades than others and it's not fair to the kids who are shy and don't really have any friends. It just makes them feel worse about their inability to make tons of friends. And they sit in their desk holding back tears as the few acquaintances they have don't mention their name and as everybody pairs off with their friends and they realize how alone they feel in this class.

I hate group work.